


Growing Pains

by dollylux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Comeplay, Dominant/Top Dean, Face-Fucking, Felching, Het and Slash, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Manhandling, Massage, Possessive Dean Winchester, Rimming, Rough Sex, Snowballing, Submissive/Bottom Sam Winchester, Top Dean, Underage Sex, Weecest, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>rain, lonely in a motel room, waiting for his big brother to come back and ease these aches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

Sam hates being alone. He talks a lot of shit sometimes and he yells at their dad and tells him to leave him alone, to just let him have five minutes alone, he glares at Dean until Dean is too annoyed to endure teenaged sarcasm for a second longer but the truth is, he hates it. And he never hates it more than he does at night, when he's truly, truly alone. When it's not just Dad at a bar down the road and Dean outside smoking and working on his fourth beer and he'll be coming in any minute now, tipsy and bitter tasting with tobacco and hops. Dad is gone to some place darker than Sammy can fathom at thirteen, with Bobby on some hunt that he will never be told about and Dean. Well, Dean's on a date. Or rather, Dean met a girl and now they're somewhere in the Impala. Somewhere even farther away than Dad or at least that's what it feels like to Sammy here at midnight alone in a city he doesn't even know. He's thirteen and alone and sick with it. He stares at the television blinking at him in silent blueness, his face smashed into Dean's pillow. He allows himself a soft whimper as another pain shoots through his legs, a sharp sensation against the backdrop of dull ache that he's been used to for almost a year now. He runs his hands down the front of his thighs and over the backs of his calves, feeling like his body is trying to stretch itself apart, like he's going to wake up and be in pieces one day. He hurts too much to even contemplate getting up and hopping in the shower and letting hot water work his magic. If Dean were here-- 

Sam's frown deepens and he pushes harder into the bed, burrowed under blankets. 

 

-

 

Her name is Felicity. She has thick auburn hair and dark eyelashes and a cherry popsicle mouth and dark freckles over peach skin and Dean thinks for the hundredth time in the hundredth city that he's in love. Or at least his dick is. He'd met her at the grocery store where she'd been helping her grandmother shop like the sweet girl she probably was, He'd just smiled that smile of his and offered a chance for plans later, his mouth babbling something about pizza and his eyes telling her that his fingers would be working some fucking magic in her cunt later. She'd said yes almost too quickly for his general liking, but the blush on her cheeks had made him grin. 

It's more splotchy now as she sucks on the head of his dick, deep strawberry red splotches of pleasure on her cheeks and her neck as he twists lazily at one of her nipples, his other hand stroking through her hair. He keeps glancing up through the parking lot, hearing the rain pouring over Springsteen on the radio, watching this or that guy or woman or family scurry past them, arms loaded with groceries and umbrellas, minds unknowing of the teenage debauchery going on just feet from them. One little boy hops down from the sidewalk to the pavement, one of those sticky syrupy sweet tubes of Squeeze Pops attached to his mouth. It's the blue kind, the kind that turns lips and teeth and tongue the color of a Smurf and he smiles to himself, picturing Sammy immediately because blue, of course, is his favorite flavor. He hisses suddenly, his attention snapping back down to the girl working his dick like she has a line of guys to suck after him. His grip tightens in her hair and he pulls her up a little, lips drawn tight in displeasure.

"Hey, hey. Go easy, sweetheart. You're not racin' anybody, are ya?" He puts a dirty smile on his face so that she will smile back and blush even more. She shakes her head and refocuses on his cock, soft tongue sneaking out to play with it again. "And, uh. Try to cover your teeth a little. I'm a sensitive guy."

He grins when she rolls her eyes and smiles and makes a show of covering her teeth before she goes back down on him, taking him so deep that Dean groans and rests his head back on the seat. He watches as the Squeeze Pop boy piles into the family van and watches them drive away until he can't see their lights anymore. He shifts on the vinyl and sighs to himself, forgetting that he's getting his dick sucked until Felicity lifts off of him again, a pretty frown covering her face. 

"Am I boring you?" She looks pissed, offended, and Dean's so annoyed that she's in his car suddenly that he doesn't care. 

"Nah. I've just gotta get back home. Curfew, you know?" He pushes at her until she's sitting up again and he grits his teeth as he stuffs his only half-hard dick back into his soft jeans. 

"Curfew? I thought you said--"

"Hey, maybe I'll call you tomorrow. Yeah?" He leans in and kisses her and straightens up in his seat and that's the end of it, to him. His mind is approximately 5.2 miles away, at the Fiddler's Inn where Sammy is probably asleep. Dean pictures a blue mouth wrapped around a Squeeze Pop and he reaches over to open the passenger door over the girl, turning his car on in the next second and he doesn't even watch her get out. He'd be back in that room in under 10 minutes.

 

-

The throaty rumble of the Impala sounds like a dream right outside these phonebook paper thin walls and Sam doesn't even have time to react because the engine dies and then suddenly, miraculously, the door opens and Dean's silhouette is backlit in the bleak streetlights outside and Sam can smell the rain, rain on leather, rain on summer-licked skin, smell Dean getting closer and closer and Sammy shifts to his back on instinct, his heart drumming louder than all the rest of it against his ribs. He hears the sound of a leather jacket hitting the floor and the grit of Dean's zipper sliding down and then the bed squeaks and Dean's knees are on either side of his scrawny shoulders and Sam can only tip his head up as Dean pulls himself out in the darkness, he can only close his eyes and make his mouth soft so that Dean's heavy cock slaps down like a dead weight on his plush lips. Sam's hands are curled loosely on Dean's thighs, his tongue out and licking everywhere while Dean spanks his face with his dick, making beautiful little grunts and groans and fuck yeah Sammys and then he's sliding all the way in without ceremony, making Sam take him ballsdeep down his baby throat and Sam can tell by the sound Dean makes that he's arched over him, his tight, muscular body a heavy drawn bow over Sam as he tries to be good, to not sit his full weight on Sam's thin chest. They sigh at the same time and Dean curls forward then, resting his forehead on the peeling paint on the wall and he ruts forward, forcing Sam's head to tip back on the pillow so he can have a straight, soaked tunnel to fuck into. 

Sam's bitten back nails dig and scratch at Dean's jeans, groping until they find his ass where the denim is loose in the back and he slides his hands in and pulls Dean even further forward, deeper into his throat. This side of a minute ago he'd been so desperate just to see Dean that he'd almost cried, almost thrown something or broken something and now here he is, his big brother sitting on his chest and using him up, moaning for the way Sam's tongue manages to work at the thick spine of his dick. Sam swallows around him and he realizes for the first time that what he's tasting besides Dean's normal, blissfully comforting flavor is piña colada, artificial and too sweet and it has to be that girl's lipgloss. That stupid, stupid girl. Sam digs his nails into Dean's ass and moans, his little body arching up off the bed and something in Dean awakens then. 

He shoves forward with a violent thrust of his hips, practically laying on Sammy's upper body, his knees spread and digging hard into the mattress around Sam's face, his ass flexing hard as he fucks into that mouth. He knows from experience that Sam likes him to fuck through the gags and coughs and choking, likes him to pump his hips and plunge in and out of his throat until Sam is frothing thick gobs of spit and precome and whatever else Dean has fucked out of him. Sam just lies back and takes it, stares up blindly into the dark, only seeing the faintest glimpses of Dean over him, fully clothed like some modern god taking his tribute from the young and devout, sweat dripping down his forehead and the sin of his mouth fat and glistening from where he keeps licking his lips over and over again. His eyes look dark and wet except for the bright whites of them and he's starting to loose control, starting to fuck savagely into Sammy's throat, making the bed groan and squeak and the headboard slap and his groans are inhuman, growly and it takes every single drop of discipline trained into him to stop when he feels two weak smacks on his ass, their long ago determined safety motion that means too much, means stop. He buries in deep just one more time, feeling Sam shake violently beneath him and all around his dick, feels him trying so hard to keep control of his body's instincts to reject what Dean is doing and when Dean pulls out finally Sam takes a huge breath and coughs, his mouth and chin and throat and chest soaking wet with everything fucked out of his throat. Dean grips the base of his dick, pinching off orgasm at the very last second and he's sliding down so that their bodies are more or less flush and Dean is licking up everything Sammy has coughed up, licking up all the spit and salt and liquid their bodies made together and he feeds it into Sammy's mouth when he kisses him, feeds it to him like Sammy's his baby bird and this is nourishment. Sam takes it, always takes everything Dean gives him and he swallows it down and wraps his arms around him and sighs. He can feel Dean urgent and angry red against his thigh through his sweats and he reaches down to rub him, to stroke and pet Dean's cockhead and draw a deep shudder from him.

"Missed you, baby boy," comes his voice finally, wrecked and whisky deep and Sammy lifts up when Dean yanks his sweats off, leaving him naked against thin cotton sheets. Dean's fingers dip between their mouths and come away with a gob of spit that Sam almost immediately feels against his hole, and Dean is sliding two fingers up into him, middle and ring, hooking them up inside of him and fucking him vulgarly, perfectly. Dean has been able to take Sam apart with his fingers every single time he's tried. Sam whimpers for probably the fifth time tonight and this time Dean's here to fix it. 

"How was your date?" Sam can't help but ask, can't help but want an answer. Dean slips a third finger into him and spreads them as wide as he can, drawing a gasp out of Sam that he licks when he kisses him thoroughly, possessively. 

"Wanted you instead. Now open for me, Sammy. Don't be so stingy. Gimme some of that pink, yeah?" Dean pushes the covers back then, shoves them off the bed and he rips his own shirt over his head and throws it toward the floor, reaching down and grabbing hold of Sam's legs and forcing them up and back, shoving Sam's bony knees into his bird-bone delicate shoulders and Sam cries out, more of those pains shooting through him and Dean immediately starts to rub his legs, making soft shushing sounds as he kisses the back of Sam's thighs. "It's okay, Sammy. I've gotcha. Right? I'm here to take care of it." He reaches for Sam's arms, letting him take over holding his long legs back and Sam reaches up and grabs his own ankles, holding himself open and apart for Dean. He moans when he feels Dean's mouth and hands at the same time, hands on his thighs, massaging and kneading deep while his mouth closes around Sam's puffed out little hole, frenching and sucking at it.

"Dean," Sam begs, not knowing what else to say, how else to feel but fucking _lucky,_ but so sexy here under his brother who is the king of fucking to him, who is the be all and end all of desire. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Dean eating him out, making yet another meal of Sam's sweet pinkness, he feels those hands moving all over his legs, his calves and his knees and Dean is mumbling against him, saying such sweet filth that Sam thinks he's going to come right fucking now. Saying something about squeeze pops and the taste of cherries and little boy pink and how he's so hungry and how his dick knows who treats it right and Sam is grappling for him, shoving at Dean's jeans and pulling him up, begging for that dirty mouth on his. 

His knees are against his shoulders again as Dean bears down on him, as he shucks his soggy shoes in dull thuds on the floor and his damp jeans follow and they're all of a sudden completely bare against each other in this chilly motel room, they're blessedly alone and belong just here and just to each other and Sam can be as sweet and loud as he wants when Dean lines up and feeds him his dick and settles as deep inside of him as he can go. Sam pants and struggles under him on the bed, his knees pressed over his shoulders into the mattress now and Dean starts his fuck then, staring down dark and fathomless at this boy under him, this everything of his under him and all around him and Sam is unknowingly echoing his exact thoughts. Dean hits his spot the first time and Sam sees bright white stars, his toes curling in the cool air over Dean's flexed shoulders. His fingers dig into Dean's ribs to ask for more please right there please big brother take care of me fix this ache give it to me and Dean does, he roots inside and anchors himself on the bed and fucks him with all of his weight, all of his strength, leaving them both marathon-run gasping for air, every thrust clearing the air of thoughts of auburn hair and chocolate freckles and ghosts and Dad and fire and money and days with no food and no Dean and loneliness and anything but each other, but the bare bones fucking that only the night gets to have, that only the stars and seedy motels get to witness. Sam reaches up and grips Dean hard by the hair and stares into his eyes when he feels Dean go still over him, feels his cock jerking as he creams him full inside, feeding Sammy's body nice and loaded. They shudder and shake and tear at each other in love until Dean is suddenly pushing Sammy even tighter in half, his ass pushed up into the air uncomfortably high, the tips of Sammy's toes scraping the headboard. When he pulls out Sammy actually sobs.

His hole is gaping and swollen red when Dean's tongue slips inside with beautiful ease, when he can suction his lips around it and suck out the come that he just put there, when he can lick and draw it out like nectar from inside a honeysuckle flower. He wraps a big hand around Sam's sweet little cock and fists it hard, jerking him off just the way Sam likes until he's yelping and begging and coming in pretty cloudy streams all over his little belly, his hole spasming and contracting around Dean's greedy tongue. He licks and milks him until Sam goes quiet and boneless under him and he lifts up then, letting those long colt limbs unfold, letting Sam finally collapse back on the bed. He looks feverishly beautiful there against the bleach white sheets, all pink and fucked out and sleepy and Dean grins at him tiredly, his mouth still full as he gathers the covers back over them and lays down beside Sammy on the little bed, both of them turning on their sides to face each other, Sam's back against the wall so Dean can keep him tucked in tight and safe. Their mouths connect and Sam drinks, swallowing down little mouthfuls of the come Dean feeds him, that sweet earthy taste of his big brother sliding across his tongue and down his throat to his belly. The rain beats harder outside, making this little room they're trapped in feel like an island, separate from anything and everything else in the world.


End file.
